


card games and ease with the bitter salt of blood

by felinedetached



Series: You can try and take us [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fae Royalty, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, The Origin Story(TM), i guess, this is dark yall, why is that even a tag lmfao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinedetached/pseuds/felinedetached
Summary: “Titania’s daughter has vanished.”This particular rumor spread through the cities faster than any previously. The only places it seemed to avoid was Titania’s Palace itself, and the hunting grounds.Another followed it soon after.“Titania’s son has vanished as well.”The rumors gained traction with this new information, and yet they still seemed to avoid both the Palace and the hunting grounds. No Hunter or Royal knew of this information, for the Royals knew the truth and the Hunters didn’t care.Funny, that, for the hunting grounds is where this all began.----------Take the pill make it too real.The other day I forgot my old addressI'm sitting pretty on the throne,There's nothing more I wantExcept to be alone.





	1. Prologue

“Titania’s daughter has vanished.”

 

This particular rumor spread through the cities faster than any previously. The only places it seemed to avoid was Titania’s Palace itself, and the hunting grounds.

 

Another followed it soon after.

 

“Titania’s son has vanished as well.”

 

The rumors gained traction with this new information, and yet they still seemed to avoid both the Palace and the hunting grounds. No Hunter or Royal knew of this information, for the Royals knew the truth and the Hunters didn’t care.

 

Funny, that, for the hunting grounds is where this all began.

 

Queen Titania is known as a harsh queen. Her rule is strong, but almost oppressive. A miscalculation in tone could lead to a harsh punishment - although how harsh depended on the Queen’s mood at the time. Rose Lalonde knows this, and has known this for the entirety of her - rather short, by elven standards - life. How could she not?

 

Titania is her mother, after all, and Rose Lalonde has spent the entirety of her life around both Royals and her mother.

 

Dirk Strider also knew of his mother’s harshness, and learned to carefully craft his words around her. He was rather good at that, for he also spent his time amongst Royals.

 

And Royals, as most know, are picky with both their words and their consideration.

 

However, despite their similarities, Rose Lalonde does not know that she has a brother, and Dirk Strider is completely unaware that his sister exists.

 

Titania is at fault for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall!!! this is the prologue to a three-chapter fic about rose + dirk's backstory, set in my fae au! the next few chapters will be _way_ longer, and rose's should be out next week! dirk's might take a little longer than that though, sorry!!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this!


	2. Rose Lalonde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As heir, you have many jobs. One of the most important ones, of course, is keeping your mother happy.
> 
> As a Huntress, that job is no longer yours.
> 
> As a Huntress, you are freer than you have ever been.
> 
> \----------  
>    
>  _I joined the club and it's all on_  
>  _There are fights for being my best friend_  
>  _And the girls get their claws out_  
>  _There's something about hanging out with the wicked kids_

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and you are the heir to Queen Titania’s long-held throne. In your short life, you have done surprisingly little. As a young child, you spent the majority of your time with a babysitter. Her name was Damara, and she was an ex-Huntress - as well as one of your best friends. She taught you what she could in the little time that she had, and you will forever be grateful.

 

One of the most valuable things she taught you was how to deal with the Royals that make up your ‘clique’. In all honesty, they’re the most annoying people you’ve ever met. But, you’re the daughter of the Queen and you don’t get to just not talk to people you find annoying - even if your mother does that exact thing.

 

Your status makes you one of the ‘ingroup’, the person everyone wants to gain the favor of. That used to be enough - the status, the friendship. You’d play card games in the throne room, idly watching as Huntsmen and Huntresses marched by, blood on their weapons and carrying with them a gruesome trophy to offer their Queen. The Royals you played with never paid them any mind, ignoring the sharp, metallic scent of blood drifting around the room, but you always watched. Every time, it was a different trophy. The severed hand of a young mortal proffered on a velvet pillow one day, and the carefully removed eyeballs of that night's victim the next.

 

It intrigues you to the point where you think, just maybe, that you might enjoy the hunt. Damara had always thought you would, before she was sent back there for being a bad influence on you. Where your mother got _that_ idea, you’re not entirely sure, but the last thing your ‘babysitter’ told you is something you will never forget.

 

_“Little flower, you are so much more than just pretty. Roses have thorns too, you know.”_

* * *

 

When the Hunt comes, you are not only watching out of interest. There’s always that niggling hope in the back of your mind that you’ll see her again, just once. She was your babysitter and your best friend, and for the first thousand years of your life, she was the only person you trusted. Is it really a wonder you hope and watch every evening?

Titania notices, and of course, being Titania, she confronts you about it.

“I see you’ve been watching the Hunt,” is her starter, her voice positively frigid. Imposing is the only word you can locate to describe the way she holds herself as she looks down at you. It’s terrifying. _She’s_ terrifying.

She’s also waiting for a response.

“Yes, mother,” you respond, quiet, knowing that it’s better to agree and sit quietly than fight her on it. This time, however, she doesn’t seem placated by your agreement - if anything, it seems to enrage her more.

“You find it interesting, do you?” she asks, and it’s not a question. The room’s temperature appears to have dropped 10 degrees in half a second, and you flinch instinctively. A glance at the guards by the door tells you they’ve made no moves to come to your mother's aid, and you internally breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not over yet, but you haven’t upset her so far. Then your mother’s next words reach your ears.

“You want to _join,_ perhaps?”

_Shit._ Losing her favour is not something you ever wanted to do, even if you doubted you ever had it in the first place. Joining the Hunt would be amazing - you’ve always admired their prowess in battle, and been intrigued by those bloody trophies. If you joined, you’d be free from your mother with every Hunt, and you might get to see Damara again.

Her words ring in your ears once again; _“Little flower, you are so much more than just pretty. Roses have thorns too, you know.”_

You’d enjoy Hunting, enjoy the rush and the blood, the metallic coppery scent in the air and in your mouth. You can almost _taste_ it. But…

Saying yes would cement your loss of favor. She’d still have control over you, still require you to bring her trophies after every Hunt, but you’d be an outcast from where you live - the one place you’re _familiar_ with.

Not that you _like_ this place.

“Perhaps,” you respond quietly. Chancing a glance up, you notice that both guards have stepped forwards, and her expression has twisted into something terrible.

_Fuck._

“Then to the Hunt you shall go,” she says, and there’s an unknown edge to her voice, an odd tilt to her mouth, and it scares you. “If you can survive tonight.”

Well.

You’re dead.

 

* * *

 

It turns out that the Hunt’s ‘initiation’ is a game of chase. A Hunt, with the newest member as the prey. If you live, you join. If you die, well.

 

If you die you join the ranks of the gruesome trophies proffered to Queen Titania.

 

You are not going to die.

 

When you were younger - back when Damara was around - you trained for battle. Or, Titania told you it was for battle. However, it was _Damara_ who trained you, an ex-Huntress with a reason to ensure your survival. She trained you to hunt.

 

When the first bell tolls, you’re offered a weapon from a selection. Most are rusty, still coated in the blood of those who had failed initiation. Others collect dust, too odd to be chosen by the masses. One of such weapons was a dual pair of what looked like knitting needles, and as soon as you see them you know you’ve found your weapon.

 

They fit into your hands like they were made for you. The Huntsman assigned to escort you to the starting point raises an eyebrow, but says nothing, holding open the door. You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs and imagining it wiping away the lingering fear.

 

Your start point is a clearing, a beautiful oak tree standing tall in the centre. The guard leaves you there to rejoin the Hunt in preparation.

 

When the bell tolls a second time, this starts. If you survive, you escape your mother’s grasp - or, well, most of it. If you die, well then, you’ve escaped your mother’s grasp permanently, so it’s a win-win situation you guess.

 

The bell tolls.

 

You run. From your conversations with Damara, you know the Hunt tends to stay on the ground, letting their dogs follow trails and following behind - by foot or sleigh. Your best chance for survival is to walk into a river and head upstream for a bit, before climbing. Find a tree that will hold your weight, and stay up there. If you _need_ to fight, you can always jump down.

 

Roughly twelve hours until sunrise.

 

Damara will likely be your biggest problem - she’s not going to go easy on you just because she knows you, and she practically raised you. She knows how you think. Of course, that doesn’t change that this is still your best chance.

 

The next river you find is the one you choose, carefully clambering down the bank and into the water. You hesitate, then cross to the other side, creating a trail leading into a bush before backing out, using your footsteps to hide the fact that you backtracked. It won’t fool them for long, and you have to hurry if you want to get far enough upstream that they won’t instantly find you.

 

The water is cold, adding extra weight to your shoes and pants. You ignore it, and the way your teeth chatter slightly, forcing your way further upstream. Howls echo through the air, but they’re far enough away that you’re not worried for now. The trees currently lining the river aren’t tall or strong enough for your needs, so you push on.

 

That is, of course, when you notice the slight flash of _something_ in the bushes. Fighting in the water isn’t the best idea, but if you have to, you will. And so far, it looks like you’ll have to. You hold your breath, waiting as silently as possible in the middle of the stream. There are three possible outcomes to this: one - you’re spotted and killed, two - you’re spotted but you fight off your opponents and three - they didn’t see you.

 

Unfortunately, it appears to be either option one or option two. Damara and another unknown Huntress emerge from the bushes, both fixated on you. Dual knitting needle-like weapons rest in Damara’s hands as well as in your own - understandable, as she taught you all you know about fighting. Her Hunting partner appears to wield a chainsaw, and both silently step into the water to join you. It’s lucky that neither uses long-range weapons, else you’d be dead where you stand.

 

“Rose,” Damara says quietly, “I see you lost favour with your mother.” Her partner seems to start, glancing back at your old babysitter, before turning her attention back to you.

 

“Yeah, kept watching the Hunt for you,” you respond, wary. At this, her partner’s eyes flash with a hint of - anger? She revvs her chainsaw and jumps, cutting the almost conversation short. Why Damara stopped to talk to you, you have no idea, but now isn’t really the time to get distracted by things like that. You bring up both needles to block the chainsaw, sparks flying off the metal as your opponent's weapon desperately tries to cut through your own. She pushes off, springing back, and you spin to meet Damara’s needles with your own.

 

This fight is not one you want to be in - its tilted dramatically in their favour. If you’re going to survive this, you need to get out. You rotate your hand, aiming to disarm Damara, but the attempt doesn’t work and her partner leaps at you again, chainsaw buzzing angrily. Hastily, you disengage, ducking under your old babysitter’s arm, putting her between you and the angry chick with a chainsaw. Decapitation via chainsaw is not on your to-do list today. Damara catches her - friend? - and you take the chance to escape, scrambling up and out of the river and fleeing through the forest. They’ll be easily able to follow your trail, but at the moment you need speed, not stealth.

 

Glancing up at the sky, you get a tiny glimpse of the moon. There are roughly ten hours until sunrise.

 

* * *

 

You’re not entirely sure how, but you think you lost Damara and her partner. With your admittedly limited senses, there’s nothing to be heard except your own breath and wind in the trees. But you can’t relax yet - there’s no guarantee you’ve really lost them, or that there’s nothing dangerous nearby. Climbing a tree is still the best choice you could make in this situation, so you scramble as far up the nearest one as you can go.

 

Now high up, there's hopefully a smaller chance that they’ll find you before sunrise. If you can figure out how to move from tree to tree whilst staying on the branches, the dogs will hopefully lead them to the base of the tree you’re in now and be unable to find you after that.

 

Holding your breath, you take the leap, catching onto a branch with one hand. Hauling yourself back up is difficult, but you manage, pausing to catch your breath in the next tree. This isn't enough - you need to be further along, further away from where your scent shows you took to the trees, further away from where it would be easy to spot you and _kill you_ and destroy the one chance of freedom you have other than death.

 

This is your chance to get away from your mother, find another place with the people you do actually love - a place where you might _belong_. The Hunt could be that place. You hope that it _is_ that place, because if it’s not…

 

Well, if it’s not, Damara would be wrong and you would have nowhere to turn.

 

God, you hope she isn’t wrong.

 

Breath caught, you leap for the next branch, once again struggling to pull yourself up. This way of getting places is time-consuming, and could cost you your life. However, there is also the chance that it will save it. You have insider information about the Hunt - you know they prefer to stick to the ground and have little to no experience fighting in trees. They’ll be ruthless when they catch you, and will likely scoop your eyes out of your dead body and give them to your mother.

 

Another incentive for you to get out of this alive - ensuring your mother _never_ finishes her gruesome collection of eyes. Never adds you to her macabre trophy room. Never gains that slight _hint_ of control, somehow still overpowering even after your death.

 

The only way to be sure of that, of course, is to make sure you don’t die.

 

And that, well, that you can only try your hardest to do.

 

But sitting on a tree branch and monologuing is not the best way to escape this situation, so you take the next leap. The branch slips through your fingers, and your heart flies into your throat. Probably literally. Luckily enough, there’s another branch you manage to grab in time to keep you in the canopy and off the ground. If you’d fallen, not only would they have found you, but you would have been in no condition to fight - likely a broken arm or ankle. With that disadvantage on top of the fact that the Hunt is known for never losing their prey, you would have almost certainly died.

 

You’re shaking when you pull yourself back up, and you take a second to calm down before looking back up further into the tree. Scrambling back up through the branches as soon as you catch your breath and regain your confidence, you quickly poke your head out of the top of the canopy to check on the positioning of the moon.

 

You only have to survive for another eight hours.

 

No problem.

 

… You hope.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s actually surprisingly easy, just sitting in the treetops, occasionally moving when you hear the dogs and Hunters move on themselves. Before you know it, you’ve moved six or seven trees over and a few hours have passed. Last you checked, you think it was three or four? Regardless, you should have about five hours left until sunrise.

 

Only five hours left to survive.

 

It can’t be  _ that _ hard, right?

 

That is, of course, when an orange-eyed noble you used to see at court drops from above you. With a start, you fall off the branch, desperately grabbing at a handhold. One seems to have been just waiting for you, an easy spot to grasp. It stops your fall, but there's a wrench in your shoulder shooting pain through your upper arm that you don't really want to think about. It’s persistent in making its presence noticed, however, distracting you from the noble somehow standing on the branch above you.

 

Shifting your weight, you get your other hand up to grip the handhold instead. The strain on your right arm is lifted, but the pain is still there, amplified when you move your arm to attempt to find another handhold. Letting out a hiss through your teeth, you drop your obviously injured arm back to your side. Could be a dislocated shoulder. The one holding you up is beginning to tire, aching to remind you that it’s there.

 

Speaking of things reminding you they’re there, the noble taps the blade of his sword against your hand to remind you of  _ his _ presence. 

 

“Want some help?” His voice is amused, but he seems genuine in his offer. However, if there’s one thing Court life has taught you, it’s that even the people who  _ seem _ genuine can be out to get you - and  _ everyone _ will always,  _ always _ , want something in return for an act of kindness.

 

“What do you want in return?” you ask, cautious. 

 

“Only that you do not tell the Hunt, or the Queen, that you received help.” You eyeball him gingerly, before reaching your injured arm for him to take. He hauls you back onto the branch, somehow still retaining his balance. The way he pulls you up is painful, but nothing compared to when he resets your shoulder without warning. You muffle the scream with your hand, glaring at him. A single shrug is your only response, before he gestures vaguely towards the next tree.

 

“Your best chance is heading that way. I can try and get them to go the other way, if you’d like. There’s only three hours to dawn, though, and I doubt they’d catch you anyway.”

 

“I’d rather the guarantee, thanks,” is your reply, “unless it costs extra?”

 

“Nothing extra. Really, I just wanted to piss off the Queen and this seemed the best way to do it.” He smiles slightly then, just the  _ smallest _ hint of one shown in the turned up corners of his lips and the brightness in his eyes. That smile, and that declaration? They’re things you can relate to.

 

“I can do that,” you reply, “after all, all I must do to do so is ensure my own survival.”

 

“I wish you luck, and bid that you enjoy your time with us after you pass initiation,” he replies, before vanishing into the brush in the opposite direction to which he’d gestured previously. His desire to piss of Titania seems more genuine than  _ any _ motivation you’ve ever seen at Court, and he makes you want to trust him. So you do.

 

You turn, and you head through the trees as fast as you can with the current pain in your shoulder and your general inability to swiftly get from tree branch to tree branch. Hopefully, you’ll put enough distance between you and the Hunt that your mysterious ex-noble benefactor is attempting to misdirect.

 

Three hours until dawn is easy. You’ve lasted this many already, and you will not get caught now.

 

You can just  _ See _ the end, a single tree away and about four or five branches up.

 

There, you will see the break of dawn.

 

That tree is where you will beat Titania’s challenge.

 

That tree will be cut down three days later, but it is all for your success.

 

* * *

 

 

While that tree is being cut down, you meet with your mysterious benefactor again.

“Dirk Strider,” he says, “pleasure to work with you.”

  
  
“Rose Lalonde,” you reply, “likewise.”

 

He smiles again, despite not seeming to be the expressive type. You smile back, privately hoping that perhaps you could form a friendship out of this - your mutal hatred for Queen Titania of the Fae, and your love for the Hunt.

 

You will.

 

You just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO i wrote like half of this at midnight, it's later than i promised, and im also gonna have to postpone the dirk chapter because of Other Things but expect a ridiculous amount of short stories to come flying out throughout October.
> 
> I hope yall enjoyed this!


End file.
